Goldie Locks: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Read online

  Something every real man has at his command.

  Inches from me, I can practically feel its heat as I become aware of my own between my legs.

  My hand reaches absently for him, any part really. I just want to touch him, need to be touched by him.

  Another of those low sounds comes from somewhere and it feels like we’re back where we started.

  The animal instinct of two strangers meeting by chance taking complete control.

  Until his phone chimes, making him jump as it vibrates in the same pocket his hot, fat dick is pulsing up against.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Maxwell

  My heart is pounding like a drum against my ribs, there’s no baby. No boyfriend. No husband.

  Phoebe Gold is completely available and more than that, she’s pressed right up against me in the tiny space she calls her kitchen.

  I should be embarrassed, but I want her to see it. I want her to know the effect she’s having on me. The effect she’s had on me since the minute I laid eyes on her.

  Not unusual for my phone to ring, but right now, right at this moment?

  It’s lousy timing.

  She’s staring up at me, gnawing her lip as her eyes dilate with her own arousal.

  She’s looked and now she knows. We both know.

  For two adults to ignore this feeling, we’d have to be a universe apart, not squashed up together like this.

  “You gonna answer that?” her voice shivers, a hand reaching out for me. Touching my own as I exhale, reaching for the phone.

  She pulls back a little, but I don’t want her to go too far.

  Fortunately, this place is so small there’s no real chance of that.

  It’s my dad. I knew it would be.

  “…Yeah, Momma and baby are doing just fine, Dad,” I tell him, shooting Phoebe a wink as she makes an ‘O’ shape with her mouth, pretending to be embarrassed.

  I lean back against the sink as I notice her eyes move down to my crotch again.

  My own eyes scan her chest and belly, tracing her curves as I feel myself harden to the point of pain.

  Being a good girl, Phoebe busies herself with something, fixing this and that while politely ignoring my phone conversation.

  But it’s useless.

  Every chance she gets, whenever she l thinks I’m not looking, she glances at the one part of me I know she wants more than anything else.

  And I’m watching her like a hawk, not taking my eyes off her for a second.

  My free hand wants to unzip myself, to take my fat length out, and silently beg her to tug me then suck my swollen cock until she gags on it.

  But no.

  Not like that.

  I want this to be special. Phoebe is special and she deserves to be treated like a queen.

  Not some crass hand job in a shitty downtown apartment.

  No. My girl deserves much, much more.

  “Max? You still there?”

  I’ve totally zoned out, ignoring most of what my dad’s been saying, only becoming aware of his voice at the same time I feel a warm pool oozing from the tip of my engorged member as I stare relentlessly at Phoebe’s body.

  Craving her like air now.

  Needing her even more with each passing second. Past wanting, needing to claim what I know belongs to me.

  What belongs to us both.

  “Uh, yeah. Sorry, Dad. Everything’s fine now. I’m just taking some measurements. Looking at fitting some window locks,” I tell him, half truthfully.

  In reality, there’s no way I want Phoebe in this place for another minute let alone another night.

  Whatever her reasons for wanting triple locks on the door, we can figure that out later.

  For now, even though we’ve just met, I need to get her away from here and into somewhere more fitting for her.

  And for baby Trixie, of course.

  I’ve never thought of myself as a dog person, but it’s kinda hard not to fall in love with the little scamp.

  And Phoebe? How hard is it not to fall for her too?

  I can’t speak for her, and I’ve ever been in love myself. But if this is what falling feels like, I’m falling hard and fast.

  Before I can get off the phone with my dad, there’s a loud knock at the door and Phoebe goes to answer it.

  Aware of my insane level of arousal, I try to hang up my call, keep the obvious discreet and make sure I’m within reach of Phoebe as she opens her door.

  Something dad said, about her maybe being in trouble and having that door locked up so tight. Makes me realize there’s a lot more to the Phoebe Gold story than just my need to be buried balls deep inside her.

  Before I can get to the door with her, she’s opened it and I hear an oddly familiar voice.

  It can’t be. Could it?

  “Mrs. Peterson,” Phoebe exclaims loudly, sounding more like she’s opened a box of turds than the door to her landlord.

  I sense a lot from Phoebe, the look on her face the same as when she mentioned payment for me coming out. And now a matching tone with her landlady.

  It doesn’t take a genius to guess that maybe things aren’t so great for Phoebe in the finance department.

  I feel for her, want to scoop her up here and now, whispering in her ear that she never has to worry about anything so stupid as rent ever again.

  But her landlady, old Mrs. Peterson bursts that bubble with her cutting voice. The one I remember so well from all those years ago.

  “You took off before we settled the rent, young lady,” the old woman says cuttingly.

  Her voice has a curious effect on my arousal, and I find I can make myself seen now. Funny how some people just have that effect on others. Well, Phoebe has the opposite effect.

  I move up behind Phoebe and the old woman looks past her, our eyes locking before hers narrow.

  “Humph. You!” she says accusingly, wagging a finger, almost poking Phoebe with it.

  “I never thought I’d see you here again,” she almost shrieks.

  Phoebe turns to me, confused.

  “Long story, I’ll explain later,” I murmur to her, trying and failing to move between her and her landlady, determined to get rid of the old witch.

  She’s one of those nice as pie old people until things don’t go her way. Then the truth comes out. Being old is no excuse for being an asshole.

  “You better not be spying on my tenants,” she adds, hissing at me as her eyes grow suddenly wide with realization.

  Dismissing me with a wave of her hand, she turns her attention back to Phoebe.

  “And you? Two weeks late from last month and two weeks into this month… And you’re supposed to be a month in advance…”

  I watch Phoebe shrinking under the old woman’s words. Like she’s having the life drained out of her.

  “…That’s… Two thousand dollars by my reckoning, plus the quarter for the phone call you made,” she announces. A horrible smile showing gray teeth as her frail body shakes with laughter.

  “If you don’t have it, I’ll have to find someone who can pay. You’re a pretty face, but I need tenants who can pay their way,” she continues and I notice Phoebe’s body starting to shake with sobs.

  “And don’t try the waterworks. They won’t work on me,” The old woman adds.

  I can feel my fists clenching, my jaw so tight I can’t even speak.

  “If I could just have until next week, Mrs. Peterson, I can get you all of it when I get paid,” Phoebe tells her, mustering all her strength but losing to tears before turning to me.

  “She’ll need a receipt,” I hear myself saying loudly as I reach for my billfold.

  “What?” The old woman shrieks. “Who are you, her daddy?” she sneers.

  Her look changes and so do her manners once she sees me counting out crisp hundreds from the folded stack I have in my jacket.

  “I’m her locksmith,” I inform her, holding out the stack briefly and then pulling it back quickly, reminding her a
bout the need for a receipt.

  “Max. No,” Phoebe says, her hand on my arm.

  I’d pay a thousand times more just to feel her against me for a second longer.

  I’d give it all up if I knew it meant I could claim her right now.

  “I don’t have my book with me,” Mrs. Peterson protests, her hands clawing the air between us as she reaches for the money again.

  “I’ll wait,” I tell her calmly, feeling Phoebe’s grip loosen. Her hand and then her whole body moving away from me.

  Closing the door in the old woman’s face, I should feel a little thrill of payback from all those years ago, but it’s only Phoebe I care about now.

  “You can’t do this, Max. I won’t let you. I don’t even know you. We just met. You said it yourself, you’re just the locksmith,” she tells me, sniffing back tears and wringing her hands.

  Even Trixie the little dog looks upset, shivering next to her mommy’s bosom.

  I know what she’s saying, what she’s getting at. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

  To hear her say these things, it’s painful for me.

  “Thank you for getting us back inside, but I can deal with my own problems,” Phoebe says finally, almost angrily as her eyes move from mine to the door.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Phoebe

  I don’t want him to go. But I don’t want him just paying off my problems like this either. It’s not right.

  It’s a lot of money, and I had no idea Mrs. Peterson would or even could turn like this.

  It’s like she saw Max and just launched into witch mode. Overriding every time she’s told me it’s okay to be a little behind with rent, as long as I make regular payments.

  Now she wants to kick me out, and all because of Max?

  It doesn’t make sense.

  Nothing makes sense today. Everything that’s happened, how I feel.

  Mostly how I feel though.

  I know I’ll have to figure something out. I also know I have to get to sleep at some point, I have work tonight.

  Max means well, and he can obviously afford it but I can’t. I won’t let him pay for my problems.

  It’s not fair. It’s not who I am.

  He’s hurt, I can see it in his eyes.

  “I’ve got a lot going on Max,” I reason. “I work nights, I have to sleep. Trixie needs a walk and… and…”

  Hearing myself, I’m not making a very good case for the man of my dreams, am I?

  I can be as stubborn as that old woman can be mean though. I’ll get her the rent money but on my own terms. And if she wants to try to evict me, then I’ll deal with that if and when it happens.

  She’s old, probably just venting. She’ll change her tune when I give her some cash, like every other time. I’m sure of it.

  The new boss at the box factory isn’t such a hard case, maybe I could get an advance or borrow some money from somewhere.

  It just doesn’t feel right having a total stranger step in and help me like this.

  Total stranger? You forgetting the effect this ‘total stranger’ has on you. The effect you have on him?

  Trixie is in my arms, and she knows just when to let herself be heard. She lets out a loud yap, answering my own internal dialogue.

  Or maybe she really does just need to go for a walk.

  Oh, I just don’t know. It’s all too hard all of a sudden and I’m the worst when I haven’t had enough sleep.

  I can’t even remember when I ate last either.

  Max is picking up on my thinking too, despite his own wounded pride from what I’ve said so far, he’s a man of the world. Mature and sensible enough to read the situation.

  He takes gentle command of the situation, pausing thoughtfully before he makes his own suggestion.

  “How about this,” he says, coming a little closer and making me want to touch him again.

  “I can loan you the money to pay your rent. Even charge interest if it makes you feel better,” he suggests.

  The look on his face is so sincere, so boyish. Like he’ll burst if I say no and ask him to leave, I can’t help but cave in.

  “A loan,” I tell him firmly. “Just until I can get it together for you, shouldn’t take too long,” I reason aloud.

  If I skip eating like I have been, get used to cold showers, and learn to live in the dark. Sure. I could pay you back in no time.

  His face brightens, that winning smile making me melt inside. Feeling like a fool for even refusing him anything, especially his offer to help.

  “That’s better,” he tells me, giving a cautionary wag of his own finger as he chuckles.

  “I thought you were gonna toss me out just now. And we’re just getting to know each other.”

  His face falls a little as he gauges my reaction while I groan softly to myself.

  “Oh. Max. I have to sleep and be fresh for work. If I don’t work I can’t pay you or anyone anything,” I tell him, feeling the familiar knot of anxiety twisting like tangled laundry in my gut.

  He frowns, but I can tell he’s thinking too. Thinking what he has to say or do to make things-

  Make things what? Perfect?

  I don’t think there is such a thing. And glancing at the clock again I realize I should already be asleep, as well as noticing the yellow envelope that was by the door isn’t there anymore.

  Did I dream it? Maybe Trixie did something with it while I was outside. Like I said, today is just too much to deal with right now.

  The thought of a twelve-hour shift at the box factory looms heavy in my mind too.

  “You know,” Max says suddenly, trying to sound cheerful. “My dad, who you spoke to on the phone, seemed to think you might be in some other kind of trouble or something. How crazy is that?” he asks me, tilting his head as he waits for my reaction.

  It’s worse than I could have imagined.

  Not only does the perfect man do everything for me on a physical level, but he also wants to pay my bills and now he’s a freaking mind reader.

  He knows something else is going on, so why can’t I just tell him?

  Tell him that I’ve been running from an invisible stalker who leaves mysterious notes and followed me halfway across the country.

  Yeah. Right.

  I feel my mouth tighten and I shake my head from side to side. Totally not looking like someone who doesn’t have anything to hide or wants to admit she’s in more trouble than she knows how to deal with.

  “I see,” Max says to himself, nodding slowly. “Like I said, crazy huh?”

  I laugh nervously, sounding more like a dying donkey than anything else.

  “And what happens to little Trixie when her mommy goes to work?” he asks me, changing the subject while still letting her be my baby after all.

  “She’s pretty good on her own, I think,” I tell him. “Mrs. Peterson lets her stay here, and nobody’s complained, so I guess she’s fine. She’s always asleep in my bed when I get home every morning,” I add.

  I’ve actually never really thought about it. It’s a long time for a little dog to be all alone. No wonder Trixie’s so clingy. And it’s no wonder I love her so much, we’re all each other has really.

  Max doesn’t say a word, just looks at me with those piercing eyes. I know he can tell what I’m thinking, but I’m still not sure exactly what it is he really wants from me.

  If he was gonna make a pass at me, if that’s all he wanted he would have done it by now. And me? Well. I know my way around a man about as well as I can build bridges.

  I glance at the clock again, mainly out of habit and Max seems to think it’s a cue that I really want him to go which I don’t.

  But I’m kinda terrified he’ll stay too. Scared to death in a good way that we might both get so close we actually touch again.

  Maybe more.

  The thought gives me chills and I wish I was able to actually have a day off so Max and I could get to know each other a little better at least.

  H
is body jolts with a little start and he seems to have decided some things.

  “I guess I should let you get some sleep,” he reasons, holding up a palm before I can say a word about anything else.

  “And don’t worry about your landlady, I actually had a run-in with her before, years ago. I’ll see her about your rent and maybe tomorrow after you finish work I can drop by and we can talk it over?” he suggests.

  I feel like a huge weight’s been lifted off my shoulders. Well, one at least.

  All the other stuff seems so far away with someone like Max in front of me.

  “I’d like that,” I whisper, stifling a yawn as I realize just how tired and hungry I really am, today has wiped me out.

  “Lock the door behind me then, and I’ll see about a lock for that window tomorrow too,” Max says, moving to let himself out the front door.

  “I will,” I pipe in. “And Max?” I ask, feeling my heart swell as he turns, our eyes locking.

  “Thank you,” I tell him, meaning it more than I can show him right now.

  “You’re more than welcome,” he says huskily, bowing a little with his hand over his heart before he closes the door behind himself.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Maxwell

  No way in hell I’m letting Phoebe out of my sight, but if she says she needs her rest and if she wants to go to work, I can’t stop her.

  I can’t make her do anything. But I can make sure I watch over her.

  I can also do a little sleuthing of my own, as well as get that landlady of hers off her back. Old Mrs. Peterson might prove useful too, which I find out sooner rather than later.

  Once she has her money, and once I do a little sweet talking, slipping in an extra month’s rent to make up for the inconvenience, she changes her tune.

  A little bit.

  Funny how money makes some people feel more secure. Like it can solve almost any problem.

  Mrs. Peterson likes having her cake and eating it too, which is why she wants to keep her building and collect rents every month.

  I get that now. Lesson learned.

  It also makes her sing when I start to ask questions about Phoebe, who I discover is actually one of her favorites.

  Go figure.